This, friends, is the College of Southern Idaho softball team and their VERY clever slogan this…
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About David

Favorite Color: BlueFavorite Sit-Down Restaurant: Applebee's? Barking Dog?Favorite Modern Invention: Gore-TexFavorite Food: Spanish RiceI Chose CSI Because: I actually went to Fordham. Their auxiliary campus, with the emphasis being that it's a Manhattan school.Hobbies: Your basic 20-something hobbies, TabooWhen I Was Little, I Wanted To Be: In Point BreakNow, I Want To Be: The writer of Point BreakFavorite Cereal: Peanut Butter Cap'n CrunchFavorite CSI Instructor: Brenda LarsenIf I Could Be An Animal, I Would Be: One of the lesser sexual innuendo ones.Favorite TV Show: Yacht Rock

This Or ThatShaven or UnshavenEnglish or MathSalt or SugarCasual or Dress UpHamburger or Hot dogMountain (Mississippi Queen!) or Beaches
Cake or PieVanilla or ChocolateTalk or ListenCoffee or Hot Chocolate

It was senior year at my college preparatory high school in Chicago that Michael Wilbon may or may not have attended. Astonishingly, our basketball team had made the playoffs and was to face Will Bynum's alma mater. Being young and dumb, my friends and I thought the best way to attend the big game was drunk. And so drunk we were.

Now, a drunk high school basketball game attendee is nothing new. But a drunk high school basketball game attendee repeatedly calling a bench warmer on his school's team "Poop Stick"? That is another matter.

My high school was one that had a lot of parties, and I even went to a few of them (although clearly not enough). Allegedly, at one of these parties, said bench warmer — we'll call him "Brendan" — and his girlfriend at the time, "Kendra," had decided to, as no one said at the time, "Do it." But they had decided to try a less traditional method, and an incident occurred that warranted me shouting "Poop Stick" at this kid.

My shouting began during the warm up drills. "Way to go, Poop Stick" is not something you want to hear after doing a proper left-handed layup or hitting a jay from the elbow, let alone after missing one.

Soon, the laughs died away and the game began. It was at this point that I thought it a good idea to call for Poop Stick's insertion into the game. "Yo, Kehoe, put in Poop Stick" is not something that you should yell at your history teacher, but I didn't know that then.

Needless to say, the act grew tiresome, and it was brought to my attention that "Kendra" was actually sitting perilously close to my group and had most likely heard everything. Rather than seeing this as the time to shut up, I began my taunting with renewed vigor. When I saw a teary-eyed "Kendra" leaving before the half with one of her friends, it was triumph that I felt, not shame.

After the seventh or eighth "Way to go, dick," my grin eventually subsided, and I decided to return to the game and root for the team. At least I hope that's what I did. I was pretty gone.

Well, "Brendan" and "Kendra," I have wanted to apologize to you in some way for quite awhile, but obviously not enough to make a real effort. Really, if I had run into you at Game Keepers or Lincoln Station, that would've been horrible, right? So, "Brendan" and "Kendra," if you're out there, that was a dick move on my part. My bad.